Drabble-ish: Dancing
Aug. 21st, 2008 01:42 pmSo I wrote another one for Multi-Fandom Request-A-Fic Meme Type-Thing, which everyone should go over and check out. There are plenty of fulfilled--and unfulfilled--requests for fandoms that I know you guys like, such as Harry Potter, Pirates of the Caribbean, Twilight and Narnia.
Title: Dancing
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Characters: River, Simon
Word Count: 175
Written for:![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kissingdaylight's prompt let's go dancing while we've still got feet
She dances for Wash, sometimes. Lazy pirouettes or a glissade culminating in grand jeté to break through atmo. Another captain might complain, another crew wonder, but Mal and the others know better than anyone that Serenity loves to dance.
Wash would have loved it.
River tells Simon this, just once.
She drowns, a flashflood of fear.
“Oh, mei mei.” She doesn’t answer; she doesn’t know if he says this or not.
“River, Wash is… gone.”
She scowls at him, her brother who is so smart but can’t understand a metaphor.
“Dead,” she supplies, biting her tongue to keep from elaborating. She knows dead; they taught her that.
Slowly the flood waters recede and River can breathe without choking. The fear is still here, is part of the Simon--is always part of Simon.
River put that fear there.
He worries about her. He won’t tell her that he thinks it’s temporary, this clarity since Miranda. She won’t tell him that she knows. She, too, is waiting for the relapse.
Until then, River will keep dancing.
Title: Dancing
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Characters: River, Simon
Word Count: 175
Written for:
kissingdaylight's prompt let's go dancing while we've still got feetShe dances for Wash, sometimes. Lazy pirouettes or a glissade culminating in grand jeté to break through atmo. Another captain might complain, another crew wonder, but Mal and the others know better than anyone that Serenity loves to dance.
Wash would have loved it.
River tells Simon this, just once.
She drowns, a flashflood of fear.
“Oh, mei mei.” She doesn’t answer; she doesn’t know if he says this or not.
“River, Wash is… gone.”
She scowls at him, her brother who is so smart but can’t understand a metaphor.
“Dead,” she supplies, biting her tongue to keep from elaborating. She knows dead; they taught her that.
Slowly the flood waters recede and River can breathe without choking. The fear is still here, is part of the Simon--is always part of Simon.
River put that fear there.
He worries about her. He won’t tell her that he thinks it’s temporary, this clarity since Miranda. She won’t tell him that she knows. She, too, is waiting for the relapse.
Until then, River will keep dancing.